If you close your eyes
by MckCouGill
Summary: Carla struggles in the aftermath of the fire.


_At the curtain's call_  
 _It's the last of all_  
 _When the lights fade out_  
 _All the sinners crawl_

 _So they dug your grave_  
 _And the masquerade_  
 _Will come calling out_  
 _At the mess you made_

 _..._

The lingering smell of acrid smoke filled the air as Carla slowly surveyed the remains of her gutted flat. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she quietly stepped into the chaos that was once her living room. It was overwhelming. The flat that she had managed to set ablaze and where a man had burnt to death. This was all that was left. She dropped heavily to her knees, and picked up a piece of blackened wood and held it in her shaking hands. What did it used to be, she wondered. Which piece of carefully chosen furniture did this firewood used to mean to her?

She didn't care. It was gone. Everything was gone.

Kal and Maddie were gone too. Dead and gone. It wasn't right. It was so, so wrong. It should have been her they dragged out in a body bag. It should have been her that felt the full force of the explosion. It should have been her. She'd deserved every bit of it. She buried her head in her knees and cried for the hundredth time since that night. She cried for the pain she had caused.

"I wish I was dead" she sobbed, and she meant it. She really fucking meant it.

Who would have missed her? Few. She wasn't like poor Sophie, who'd just lost the love of her life before their lives had truly begun. Beautiful Maddie, always ready with a smirk and a witty comeback. Or Kal's family, losing their beloved son and dad. And Leanne. Twice she had stolen her husband away. Twice she was responsible for destroying her whole life. Leanne didn't deserve such pain. She was a good person. Carla knew that she was not.

Two people that she'd liked and respected. Never going home again to their loved ones. Because of her.

She despised herself.

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a handkerchief, gently rubbing the small H embroidered in the corner. Roy had pressed it into her hands that morning after she'd broken down in his bathroom after being thrown out of Kal's funeral. She'd been staying with Roy since the fire. He'd been so kind. Gently stroking her hair on the pavement that night as she choked and cried. Clutching her hand as she lay in hospital. Refusing to let her sleep on the couch, and instead giving up his own bed. She thought of his caring face as he'd made up the bed with fresh sheets, with quiet concern and kind eyes. How he'd worried when he heard her moving around that second night- and knocked quietly at the door and bought her extra blankets in case she was cold. How she'd cried for hours on his shoulder, neither of them speaking a word.

But supporting her was making life so difficult for him. People were boycotting the cafe. Giving him abuse in the streets. She was a murderer, it was her carelessness that had led to the deaths of two wonderful people. Roy didn't deserve to be treated cruelly because of her. He had such a kind soul. She couldn't do that to him anymore.

She loved him. He was her friend.

No more. She wouldn't let anybody else suffer.

She briefly wondered what people normally wrote in suicide notes. She hadn't written one last time, her mind addled by drink and images of Frank. This time though, she was lucid and she was clear. But with nothing to say, this death needed to explanation. This was the only way. At least people would know she had got what she deserved. She would be dead and forgotten.

She pulled the razor and pill bottle out of her bag and gripped them tightly in shaking hands.

"I hope I see Hayley" she whispered into the darkness.

...

Sweeping the pavement outside the cafe, Roy began to worry about Carla's absence. She hadn't been out of the flat in days, and now she had been missing for several hours. A sense of uneasiness grew in him as he recalled their last conversation that afternoon.

He hadn't known what to say, words didn't come easily to him. He just wished he could help the broken woman. His late wife's friend. His friend.

The flowers outside the builders yard caught his eye, beautiful colours laying brightly amongst the smog which still seemed to permeate throughout the whole street.

He noticed a beautiful bunch of lillies that hadn't been there the day before and leant his broom against the wall as he bent down to read the card.

 _"I will see you again Maddie. Please forgive me. Carla._

He stood up straight and stared into the distance.

Something was very wrong. He needed to find her.

...

An eerie silence filled the choking air as Carla leant back against the wall. She glanced at her wrists and immediately felt light headed, she never did like the sight of blood. Funny really. She would have laughed had it all not been so very sad.

Minutes ticked by. An insistent buzzing sounded in her ears and black dots danced in front of her eyes. She gently lay her tired head on the ground and allowed one final tear to fall before her eyes grew too heavy and oblivion claimed her.

Just a defeated woman, all alone in a burnt out room.

A simple note lay by her cold hand

 _'To those who I have caused pain, I am so sorry'_

...

 _"Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do."_  
 _Voltaire_


End file.
